


Would You Like to Kiss The Doctor?

by Bubblekind



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, doctor who fluff, short fic, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9611819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblekind/pseuds/Bubblekind
Summary: That was a question which Clara Oswald hardly even came close to considering. If one were to ask such a thing, she would almost immediately say ‘no’. However there would be times when such a query would brush her subconscious and make her forget her theoretical answer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I wrote this in like an hour to get some creative thoughts and feels out. I hope my Doctor Who stuff in the future seems more in character and detailed!

Would you like to kiss the Doctor?  
That was a question which Clara Oswald hardly even came close to considering. If one were to ask such a thing, she would almost immediately say ‘no’. However there would be times when such a query would brush her subconscious and make her forget her theoretical answer.  
\-----------  
On one occasion, Clara was curled up silently on the couch in her flat. Tears mingled with thin lines of mascara streaked her cheeks as she gazed pointlessly into the back of the sofa. The dim light of the room was momentarily augmented by the materializing blue box which suddenly occupied a quarter of it. The forlorn silence of the flat was broken as the TARDIS doors creaked open and the Doctor stepped out, rambling excitedly.

“Clara- TARDIS. Inside. Now. There’s a planet inhabited entirely by dressmakers and your sense of fashion won’t mend itself.” There was no reply, but the Doctor was already halfway back into the box on instinct of her immediately following. Clara remained motionless, blinking through her tears and pulling her surrounding blanket closer to herself. The Doctor appeared once more in the illuminated doorway and waved impatiently at her. “C’mon I haven’t got all day. Well I do, but where’s the fun in waiting. Let’s go.” He gave an exasperated sigh and strode over to her, shaking her shoulder while calling her name loudly in her ear as though she were deaf. “CLA-RA-”

Clara shifted, looking up emotionlessly into his face.

“Oh no your face it’s- it’s leaking. Why do you do that?” The Doctor’s tone came close to sympathy but stopped short at confused. 

Clara arose to a sitting position and moved to the other edge of the couch, putting distance between her and the Doctor. He, however, remained standing, towering over her with a look that demanded explanation. She looked away; she couldn’t bear the sight of his judgmental eyes in such circumstances. Here they remained for quite a long moment.

Only after prolonged silence did the Doctor sit on the couch. After a few moments of debate, Clara closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s neck. He merely flinched but didn’t pull back. 

“What’s this for?” The Doctor asked, obviously irked at the sudden embrace.

“Hug’s a good way to hide your face,” Clara sniffed. “and I’d rather prefer that you didn’t see my face right now.” 

The Doctor’s hands came up to rest awkwardly on Clara’s back, lightly resting there as though any weight would crush her. 

Clara’s shoulders shuddered with a sigh and began her simple explanation. “I got fired. The family I was working for decided their kids were too old for a nanny.”

“That’s understandable.” The Doctor’s quick remark earned him a pinch on the back from Clara.

“Oi! Whose side are you on?” She retorted. Her sudden anger towards the Doctor caused her to push away from the hug and put a distance between them. She fiddled with a loose thread in the couch’s upholstery. “Perhaps they didn’t want some time traveller hanging about them, messing with their view of history class.” Her little joke failed to cheer herself up.

The Doctor scoffed and leaned back into the couch. “Or maybe that you could actually teach history class accurately.” 

This elicited a small laugh from Clara who turned toward the Doctor, legitimately smiling amidst the faint stains of her tears. “A teacher?” Clara laughed and shook her head in disbelief, hardly entertaining the thought. “Don’t you think the students might get to be a ‘little too old for a teacher’”

“I don’t know. In any case, I would trust you to teach my children.”

“You? Children?” Clara thought this was most amusing and burst into giggles, oblivious to the Doctor’s suddenly dark tone. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he stared blankly down at his hands in his lap.

“Oh my God. You had kids?” Clara regretted her insensitivity almost immediately and felt her ears grow hot with embarrassment . 

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry.” Clara scooted closer to him and hesitantly placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. To her surprise, the Doctor raided one of his own hands to meet hers. 

“That’s okay. It was a long, long time ago. I would laugh at the concept of myself with children today if I so thought of it.” He shifted a little on the couch, gripping a bit tighter onto Clara’s hand. Her eyes flitted once again to his face which seemed to show every line that each year of his long life etched into it. His tired and complex face was a storm of emotion. It seemed like it was an open book, but one written in a foreign language which was lost to the void of time. Times such as these reminded Clara just how much she cared about the Doctor. Seeing him so broken, she hates to think of what he would come to without someone by his side. Wonderful, genius, cold man that he was, the Doctor could not cope without another hand to hold or face to smile to. At the same time, Clara reminded herself how lucky she was to be this person. The more she thought about it, she realized she would not leave this man even if given the chance to rule over the entire universe. The Doctor had become necessary to her life just as dhe had become necessary to his.

“Hey,” Clara whispered, a small smile pressed into her lips as she spread her other hand over the Doctor’s. “Just promise me that you’ll never get a little too old for a good friend.”  
\------------  
If this question were to be asked in such a moment, Clara Oswald may raise her brow and glare defensively at the inquirer. Yet one may detect a hesitant glimmer in her eye which, to an astute observer, would silently respond:  
“Maybe. Maybe I would like to”.


End file.
